


Objects in Mirrors

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Panchibust on Tumblr prompted: Rumple has been crying ever since he saw Belle and Will kissing, and Cruella and Ursula can’t stand him anymore. They record a video of him crying, watching Beauty and the Beast, eating ice cream, looking at Belle’s photo, and drinking tea. They show it to Belle and beg her to take him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Season 4 Rumbelle "What If" Drabble.
> 
> I do not own Once Upon A Time or any of its characters.

“If I have to endure another moment of this, I’m going to strangle someone,” Ursula threatened menacingly, waving her tentacles toward the cabin’s living room.

“He’s been this way ever since we took pity on him and let him into Storybrooke, darling,” Cruella retorted. “What a foolhardy moment of weakness. After two weeks of watching this? There’s not enough strong drink in all the realms to burn these images out of my brain.”

The object of their scrutiny was sprawled out on the cabin’s lone sofa. He was clad in a sweatpants, a black t-shirt scattered with cake crumbs, and a tattered brown bathrobe.  A musty afghan was wrapped around his shoulders. Seething, the two women stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the cabin’s galley kitchen, glowering at the back of his straggly, unkempt head.

“I can hear you, Dearies,” Rumplestiltskin roared. “It’s my heart that’s shattered, not my eardrums!”

Even as he shouted himself hoarse, he didn’t deign to face them. His bloodshot eyes remained glued to the television screen where the DVD player was cued up to the library scene in Beauty and the Beast—for at least the seventeenth time.

“Did Will Scarlett give her a library with more books than she could read in a lifetime?” he muttered to himself, clenching his teeth. “No! Two libraries. I gave her two libraries. He’s probably too pissed to _find_ the library.”

Ursula rolled her eyes heavenward as the film’s musical score swelled in the background and Rumplestiltskin wiped his red-rimmed eyes with a crumpled tissue he pulled out from under a cushion. “This is what the almighty Dark One has been reduced to? Cruella, we need another place to crash.”

“I checked with the Lucas Widow again today,” Cruella reported. “As bad as being stuck here at the cabin with him has been, it’s better than the streets. That miserable woman and the wolfgirl still refuse to rent us a room. I suppose we could sleep in my car.”

“At least he lets us have the bedroom,” Ursula conceded grudgingly. “Even though he keeps us awake _half the night listening to his rages_ ,” she shouted, her voice rising in pitch and volume with every word.

“The Maine wilderness is a cold, unforgiving climate.” Rumplestiltskin’s tone was harsh with warning. “And I’m not just talking about the weather.”

The fiend was notorious in all worlds for his legendary temper and childish propensity to sulk when he didn’t get his way, but this behavior was extreme even for him.

Busy rooting through cabinets for her stash of vodka, Cruella merely grunted in reply. She needed a drink desperately.

“These happy endings he promised better be worth all this misery—and the lack of sleep!”  Ursula complained in a furious whisper over the persistent growling of her empty stomach. She stooped slightly to peer inside the refrigerator, hoping something edible would materialize. Straightening, she slammed her head into the open freezer door. “Ow!” She howled angrily, rubbing her smarting forehead.

Spinning around to confront the source of her injury, she saw Rumplestitskin digging into a gallon of Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream with a large wooden spoon. She hadn’t even heard his approach. Hands on her hips, she glared at him.

“I needed to get into the freezer,” he shrugged. With a smirk of triumph that he’d momentarily made someone else miserable, he stalked back to the couch with the carton under his arm and the comically oversized spoon shoved in his mouth.

“Where the hell is my vodka?” Cruella spat, still searching the kitchen. Viciously, she upended the trashcan. Damp coffee grounds plopped onto the hardwood floor, popcorn kernels scattered like tiny marbles and rolled under the refrigerator, and five empty bottles of spirits splintered in a satisfying crash.

Despite his heightened senses, Rumplestiltskin didn’t even raise his head at the commotion. Cruella peered over his shoulder where he was bent over a framed black and white photo of… _was that his maid_?

“He plundered my vodka over _that_ mindless ninny? I’ll kill him,” Cruella declared, curling her hands into claws. Picking up a large shard of glass from the shattered bottles, she lunged toward the sofa with bloodlust in her eyes. Snaking out a tentacle, Ursula caught her by the back of her fur collar and dragged her away.

“Easy, Cruella, easy,”  she soothed, pulling her against her chest in a front-to-back embrace. “I’d like to kick his fine ass, too, but violence isn’t the answer—not just yet. Let’s check out the new seafood restaurant in town. I think I have a plan.”

“Fine,” Cruella acquiesced. “But if it doesn’t work, I drag him to the town line and shoot him down like the dog he is.” On the television, the townsfolk in the movie were lighting pitchforks and chanting ‘Kill the Beast! Kill the Beast.’ “See? Even they agree with me.”

“Let’s go,” Ursula urged. “Dark One,” she shouted, “we’re going out for a bite. Don’t wait up.”

Mesmerized by the townspeople smashing thick logs into the Beast’s barricaded castle, he waved his accomplices away with a halfhearted flourish.  “Aye, it doesn’t matter,” he murmured sadly along with the distressed Beast, “let them come.”

The moment Movie Belle arrived to rescue her Beast, he switched off the TV. What happened next was a happy ending—and happy endings were not meant for villains such as he.

Contemplating the dregs of Cruella’s last bottle of vodka, he fumed silently. Confounded curse! Even the strongest spirits failed to make him tipsy. Closing his eyes, Rumplestiltskin longed to forget his excruciating existence.

Why was he here in Storybrooke, he wondered absently. Oh, right, to save his blackening heart and preserve the last shreds of his humanity. But what good would life be without Belle?

The image of his beautiful wife kissing another man played in his mind’s eye again and again. It had just been a chaste brush of lips, but still! Seeing Will Scarlet touch her—any part of her—was more than he could bear. Perhaps he should just allow himself to die. No, he realized, with a shake of his head. If he gave in, the untethered Dark One would attack Belle, Henry, and the rest of the town. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

Calling his bargain with Zelena to the forefront of his foggy brain, he returned to the business of making plans. Oh, he would help the Queens of Darkness and that horrid green witch achieve their goals, but he’d given up on a happy ending for himself. He didn’t deserve one. Reveling in the freedom to grieve in solitude, he dropped his face into his empty palms and wept.

xoxoxo

“I don’t see what their failed marriage has to do with us,” Cruella snapped. Squeezing a French fry into potato pulp, she pretended the offending vegetable was Rumplestiltskin’s scrawny neck.  “His little chambermaid banished him—why would she take him off our hands now?”

“The girl’s a bleeding heart, that’s why,” Ursula laughed ruefully. “Besides, she’s still in love with the wretched imp. Remember how riled she was when we told her we had seen him? Once we show the little bookworm what she’s reduced him to, she’ll feel so badly that she’ll be begging us to take her to him.”

“Apparently there’s no accounting for taste, is there?” Cruella snorted.

Ursula waggled her eyebrows. “You didn’t always hold such a low opinion of him,” she said slyly.

“Ancient history, darling,” Cruella scoffed. “Besides, I was talking about _his_ taste!”

“Whatever you say.” Ursula rolled her eyes as Cruella tried to play off her attraction to Rumplestiltskin. For many years she had carried an unrequited torch for the Dark One, though she did her best to conceal her interest.

“Back to the cabin, I suppose.” Their dinner plates were long since cleared away, and Cruella pulled a face as she motioned for the check.

“Our fun is just beginning,” Ursula assured her companion. “Once we pick up one of those iPhone thingies and collect some evidence, we’re going to have that cozy little nest all to ourselves.”

“Don’t forget to stop at the liquor store,” Cruella ordered. “I’m going to need a pick line of martinis to stand anymore of his lovesick simpering.”

xoxoxo

The next afternoon, Cruella and Ursula strolled into the pawnshop in search of Belle.

“What are you two doing here?” Belle demanded. “Still looking for the perfect hood ornament?” she asked snidely.

“Now, darling,” Cruella purred. “Is that any way to greet paying customers?”

“We’re not here to make trouble. Actually, we’re here to give you some advice,” Ursula offered sweetly.

“You—the villains who kidnapped me, stole from my husband, and tricked me into relinquishing the box that unearthed Maleficent—you want to give me advice? Where is your pet dragon, by the way? Lying in wait to set my hair on fire?” Piqued, Belle crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

“Such a colorful imagination you have, darling,” Cruella crowed. “But you’ve guessed the reason for our visit—poor, poor Rumple.”

Attempting to look busy, Belle scanned the shop’s inventory. “What do you mean, poor Rumple?” she asked, feigning a casual tone.

“He’s a mess, darling.” Cruella pounced delightedly on Belle’s interest.

“Utterly bereft without you,” Ursula added quickly.

Belle released a shrill, humorless laugh. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Well, if you won’t take _our_ word for it,” Ursula said, “maybe you’ll believe _him_.”  With a snap of her wrist, she flicked her iPhone in front of Belle’s face and pressed Play.

“Belle…Belle…Belle,” a voice whined forlornly.

Belle’s eyes grew as round as teacup saucers: Rumplestiltskin was on the screen and he looked positively dreadful. Her pristine, put-together husband was an unshaven, unwashed, unruly mess. His typically thick, shiny brown hair was dull and matted; his usually sparkling, intelligent chocolate eyes were now red and unfocused; and his formerly smooth, glowing olive complexion was blotchy and covered with patches of straggly hair. And his clothes! They were stiff and so filthy they could have stood up and walked to the laundry room on their own.

Never had Belle seen Rumple looking so bruised and battered and her face curled in pity. A tiny kernel of hope unfurled in her wounded soul. He was chanting her name with such longing…was all this misery truly because of _her_?

“Is this your idea of a cruel joke?” Belle snarled. “Because it’s not funny.”

Ursula stared at Belle in disbelief. “Who could make _this_ up?” she asked.

As the video continued, Belle’s pinched expression softened at the sight of Rumplestiltskin sipping tea out of a cup that looked suspiciously like the chipped one she had locked in the safe. Absently twisting his wedding ring, he stared longingly at the television and Belle realized he was watching Beauty and the Beast! She felt a warm rush of affection—she adored the movie and had affectionately dubbed the cartoon “their story.” Rumplestiltskin always groaned whenever she popped it into the DVD player, grumbling under his breath and pretending to read his newspaper while she sang along with the heroine, but she’d always suspected that he secretly enjoyed the tale of the gentle Beast and his bookish Beauty.

Ursula and Cruella glanced at one another gleefully—the guileless brunette’s attention was riveted to the screen—their plan to rid themselves of the heartsick sorcerer seemed to be working.

Belle looked on at the images of Rumple pacing, muttering, and messily consuming a veritable parade of unhealthy, processed foods.

But it was seeing a tear snake down her love’s cheek as he looked at a silver-framed picture of them on their wedding day that proved Belle’s undoing.

“I was wrong,” she whispered sadly, her own eyes brimming with tears. “He…he does love me more than he loves his power.”

“So you’ll come and talk to him? Consider taking him back?” Ursula sounded hopeful.

“Yes, darling. At least give him a chance to grovel,” Cruella pleaded. “He’s swilling all my vodka and the bloody Dark One can’t even get drunk. Why not just pour perfectly good liquor down the drain!” she moaned.

“I suppose it can’t hurt to have a conversation.” Belle offered the unwitting matchmakers a tiny, grateful smile. “You’d best be careful or someone may accuse you of being romantics,” she teased lightly.

“Unlikely,” Ursula responded giving the librarian a small, answering smile.

“As I said, darling, I’m just trying to save my vodka.” Cruella was fast losing patience. “Are you coming or no?”

“Right behind you,” Belle agreed. “I’ll meet you back at Rumple’s cabin in 30 minutes.”

Nodding, they departed swiftly, anxious to return to the cabin and convince Rumplestiltskin to clean himself up for his lady love.

xoxoxo

Belle heard the engine of Cruella’s Panther De Ville roar to life as she rummaged through the bottom shelf of the display case. Rising with her wedding ring in hand and a spring in her step, she was brought up short by Regina’s sudden appearance.

“Regina. I—I didn’t hear you come in.” Belle was in a hurry, and Regina’s unexpected arrival flustered her. Perceptive as always, Belle read the calculated expression in the Mayor’s eyes. What did she want?

Unsmiling, the other woman offered no greeting. “Your ex-husband has done quite a number on me, Belle.”

 _That’s husband. Not ex-husband._ Belle wanted to retort. _And you probably deserved it._ Instead she said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And now he wants me to work with him!” Regina was outraged.

“I’m sure that would be a mistake,” Belle replied. _I don’t want you anywhere near Rumple,_ she fumed silently.

“I know it is,” Regina agreed readily.

Belle realized she should extricate herself from any scheme involving Regina Mills, but, as usual, curiosity overwhelmed her. _Since I’m going to see Rumple anyway, what could it hurt to find out what she’s up to?_ Belle rationalized.

“How can I help?” Belle heard herself offer.

“I’m glad you asked.” Smiling viciously, Regina thrust her hand into Belle’s chest and wrenched out her heart. With a delicate ping, Belle’s wedding ring dropped to the floor, forgotten in her surprised agony.

“Go to the well and call Rumplestiltskin,” Regina commanded, holding Belle’s heart like a mouthpiece. “That twisted imp is going to rue the day he tangled with Regina Mills.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple snaps out of his depression when Belle summons him to the well, but Regina has stolen her heart. Will Rumple be able to win back Belle's heart?

Belle had called for him.

At once terrified and hopeful, he had magicked himself out of his grimy t-shirt and tattered bathrobe. With a wave of his hand, he was clean-shaven, impeccably attired in an all-black bespoke suit, and spritzed with Belle’s favorite cologne.

Excited by the prospect of spurring the mopey Rumple into action, Cruella and Ursula had rushed into the cabin just in time to witness his radical transformation in appearance and attitude. Gone were the greasy hair, sour odor, and disheveled shadow of a man who had gone too long without a shower—Rumplestiltskin looked dark, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Cru,” Ursula elbowed her companion. “He’s not all dolled up for you.”

Cruella threw the Sea Witch a harangued look. There was no harm in admiring the view. “Darling,” she said to Rumple, “you look positively scrumptious. And what excellent timing—we were just coming to give you some happy news. Your wife is on her way.”

“I know,” Rumple snapped, more out of nervousness than irritation. “Belle summoned me.” The spunk that had been missing for weeks brightened his chocolate eyes. “Wish me luck, dearies.” And in a puff of crimson smoke, he was gone.

But nothing had transpired in the way he'd expected, and if there was one thing Rumplestiltskin loathed, it was being caught unaware. In over 300 years of life, very little surprised him. But the confounded Mills women always served up bitter pills for him to swallow.

First Zelena, blackmailing him in the hospital and forcing his return to Storybrooke.

Now Regina had manipulated Belle into tricking him—again. Using Belle against him was one of her favorite games, and she'd lured him to the old well in the forest and Belle was the bait. Falling for the scheme, he had shown Belle his blackened heart, confessed his intent to find the Author to reverse his condition, and launched himself into her arms like a lovesick fool. She had opened herself to him so sweetly, so passionately that for a brief moment his dark heart exploded in a burst of hope.

But then Belle had pulled away, her sapphire eyes going glassy and cold.

He had never considered himself much of a lover, though Belle's cries of pleasure in his arms seemed to belie his doubts about his abilities. Maybe she had just been pretending to enjoy his caresses.

She had called him pathetic, likened him to a dog begging for scraps, and she had said...she had said....he could barely bear to remember those unthinkable words...she had said she preferred Will's kisses. And with that, the last shreds of his ego crumbled into dust. She was better off without him, and he? He was better off dead.

But cruelty and nastiness? Even if she were telling the truth, that wasn't Belle. His Belle was understanding, kindhearted, and loving, even to those who were undeserving. She always spoke with thoughtful care.

“This isn't like you, Belle," he had said, even though his wounded soul believed her comments to be true.

Then Regina had crept out from behind a large tree, his love's bright red heart clutched in her cold black glove. Laughing at him, Regina ordered Belle's heart to forget all she had seen, heard, and said. Obediently, Belle abruptly turned and walked away without a backward glance.

"Was it you the whole time?" he demanded of Regina.

"As if I would have told her to kiss you!" Regina mocked. "Please, Gold, I just ate lunch."

Disgust at Regina's puppeting mingled with relief at the possibility that Belle didn't hate him. Perhaps she hadn't meant those terrible things she'd said? Maybe Regina had forced her.

To hell with Zelena, the Author, and his own charred heart. He had one mission: to get Belle's heart back.

Allowing Regina to walk off with Belle's heart, he followed his wife home.  
  


xoxoxo

  
It felt strange, ringing the doorbell at his own house. But this wasn't his home anymore, and he wouldn't just barge in. This conversation would be difficult enough. 

Without looking to see who was calling, Belle threw open the door with a cheerful smile. A smile that quickly faded as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth and her lovely eyes clouded with confusion.

He grimaced; she'd obviously been expecting someone else. Someone she was actually looking forward to seeing.

"Rumple," she faltered, bewildered. "What are you doing here? I was just on my way to our—I mean— your cabin...but for some reason I needed to come home. I can't remember why."

Her mood shifting like the direction of the wind, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Wait! I heard you weren't feeling well. That you were in the midst of some sort of breakdown. I was supposed to come to talk to you, not the other way around.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this a trick?”

Rumple was astonished. How had Belle learned of his disgraceful depression? Suddenly the answer was all too clear. Meddlesome witches. He was going to incinerate them. “How did you know about that?”

“Cruella and Ursula paid me a visit.” Belle’s lips began to tremble and her eyes overflowed with tears. "Rumple, please," she begged, "Tell me what’s going on. I can bear anything as long as it's _true_."

"Oh, Belle," he sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I'm here because Regina has your heart."

"What? How? Why?" Belle sputtered, her hand fluttering over her chest.

"It's nothing to do with you, sweetheart, and everything to do with me,” he apologized. "This is my fault, Belle. I should have placed a protection spell on your heart."

"But you did," Belle protested. "It must have broken when…when I banished you.” The last words were said in a despairing whisper. “Oh, Rumple."

His laughter was a harsh bark in the cold afternoon air. “I failed you once when Regina told me you were dead.” Rumplestiltskin hung his head. “ I’ve failed you over and over. But not this time. We’re going to get your heart back—together.”

“Together?” Belle asked, trying to suppress a smile. She loved him so much, but was she ready to trust him again? Was _he_ ready to trust _her_ again?

“Unless you would, ah, rather ask your Thief for help?” he offered sheepishly.

The bereft desperation reflected in his eyes was all the answer she needed. If she refused to step out in faith, they would never rebuild what was broken.

Tentatively, she placed her tiny hand in his large, warm palm.

He looked at her in surprise, tears glistening on his lashes. The gesture was so trusting, so innocent, that Rumplestiltskin nearly came undone. Forcing back the tears and stilling his trembling limbs, he laced his fingers with hers and focused on the task at hand.

“Come now,” he urged, leading her off the front porch and down the steps. “Someone has stolen the most lovely, precious heart in all the realms. We need to return it to its rightful owner.”

She giggled a little at the shy compliment, and they walked arm and arm to the Cadillac.

 

xoxoxo

“Our illustrious mayor is holding your heart somewhere in her office,” Rumple explained, parking in front of City Hall. “Maleficent has been appointed watchdog while Regina sojourns to New York with Emma.”

“Because Robin’s in danger,” Belle reiterated. “And Zelena—she’s been posing as Marian this entire time? Poor Robin. Poor Roland. Dear God, I almost feel sorry for Regina.”

“You’re entirely too compassionate, Belle,” Rumple frowned. “I’m living proof of that.”

“Stop talking that way,” she scolded. “We’ll discuss our troubles later. Right now I want my heart back and I’m awfully tired of being manipulated by that harpy.”

He couldn’t contain his smile at her bravado. “No doubt Regina has placed wards on her office door to keep me out,” he warned. “You’ll have to go first. Use this to break the protection spell surrounding the office. It contains a lock of Regina’s hair and one of her tears.” He handed her a small vial.

Belle stared at the swirling magenta liquid inside the glass. “But how did you get these?”

He merely quirked an eyebrow at her in response.

“Right,” she said, opening the office door and swiftly tossing the contents of the vial into the open doorway—straight into the shocked face of none other than Regina Mills.

As Regina swiped at the bright pink rivulets of potion running down her cheeks and dripping onto her expensive pantsuit, Belle hastened through the door, pulling Rumple behind her.

“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple,” Regina smirked. “But you’ll have to excuse me. I’m on my way out.”

“Not so fast,” Belle challenged, blocking her exit. “You have something that belongs to me. And I want it back. Now.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Regina lied easily.

“I’m quite sure you do,” Belle replied, her voice sharp as steel.

Regina fixed her cold stare on Rumple. “Gold would never be stupid enough to betray me. Not when his own life hangs in the balance.”

Stiffening, Belle paled and looked between the two mages. “What are you talking about? Rumple?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Regina wrinkled her alabaster brow in mock confusion. “Oh, that’s right. You _forgot.”_ She laughed delightedly at her own joke. “Show her, Gold.”

“This isn’t about me, Regina,” he snarled through gritted teeth, not wanting to bare his soul in front of Regina twice in one day. “Return Belle’s heart, _please_.”

“Your ‘pleases’ don’t work on me, anymore, Gold,” Regina rejoined. “And what do you mean, it’s not about you? It’s _always_ about you.”

"What do you know?" Belle interrupted angrily, squaring her shoulders toward Regina. "What do you know of anything but your own selfishness and suffering? So you’ve lost someone you loved. He’s lost everyone he ever loved. He's been holding that terrible darkness inside of him for centuries. At least he has an excuse. What’s yours?”

“Show her,” Regina ordered Rumple, ignoring Belle. “Let her see how black and vile your heart is. Show her how you’re rotting from the inside out.”

Regina walked around to the back of her desk and retrieved a gilded box. She opened it, exposing a black velvet lining, the glowing red heart pulsing in stark contrast against the dark background. “Show her, or we can all watch what happens when I take this heart and squeeze.”

“You don’t scare me, Madame Mayor,” Belle taunted. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

“No!” Rumple cried, wrenching his heart from his chest. “Belle, look,” he begged, holding the charred vessel out for inspection. “This sliver of red is all that’s left. Soon I won’t be able to love, and the Dark One will have everything.”

Horrified and worried for Rumple, Belle swayed on her feet, collapsing gratefully in a nearby chair.

“Belle!” he shouted, throwing himself on his knees at her feet. “Are you all right?”

She extended her hand. “May I?” she requested, asking for the blackened remains.

Flinching slightly, he acquiesced. If there was anyone he could trust to hold what was left of his heart, it was Belle.

“I think you’re amazing,” she said, smiling at him.

“What?” he responded, dumbfounded.

“I’ve always known there was love in your heart for so much more than power.” She caressed his cheek. “This shows me just how right I was. The love you feel is so deep, so profound, that even in 300 years, the darkness couldn’t extinguish it entirely. You’re amazing.” As tears spilled down her face, he covered the hand that was stroking his face and pressed it to his lips in a reverent kiss.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Regina snorted in disgust. “Here. Take it,” she said, shoving the heart-laden box at Belle.

“Thank you, Regina,” Belle said sweetly, masking her relief. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“Whatever,” Regina rolled her eyes. “You’re both insane and you’ve wasted enough of my time. I need to go take care of Robin. Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?” Rumple asked dryly.

“Don’t have sex in my office.”

“No guarantees,” Belle teased, eyes dancing as she opened the box.

“Ugh!” Regina gripped, movingly swiftly past them.

As Rumple watched the door slam behind Regina's retreating form, Belle took advantage of his momentary distraction— _grasping his shoulder, she used all her might to thrust her own heart into Rumple’s empty chest_.

“Belle! What have you done?” Frantically, he dug his nails into his sternum, moving to rip the heart back out and put it where it belonged.

She stilled his grasping, desperate hand with a tight squeeze. “Don’t,” she said, strong and firm. “Let it be. You hold my heart. You won’t bruise it and you’ll never let it break apart.”

“But Belle—” he protested, shaking his head. “You can’t.”

“I just did,” she said simply. “Now, give me yours.”

“Absolutely not! Never!” Shooting to his feet, he raked his hand through his hair, yanking at the roots, and paced up and down the tile floor.

“Yes,” she insisted, a perfect picture of calm. Rising, she stopped his agitated motions, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“I don’t know what will happen,” he objected.

Belle pointed at the glowing red spot in the center of his heart. “Doesn’t this love belong to me?” she asked.

“You know it does,” he gestured helplessly.

“Then there’s no problem. With my heart in your care, our love will only grow stronger. Can you trust me to hold your heart? Keep it safe?” She placed his heart in his hand and pressed it to her breast.

“Yes,” he agreed softly, and he closing his eyes tightly, he thrust the shriveled, dark organ into her body.

Embracing fiercely, their kiss was an encompassing, desperate, circle of need. They clung to each other so tightly, neither could tell where one began and the other ended.

“We’re going to fix this Rumple,” Belle whispered against his lips. “And we’re going to heal you. You're going to be all right. We both are.”

“I know,” he smiled. “Because you hold my heart. You won’t bruise it and you’ll never let it break apart.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Thanks for reading and reviewing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Panchibust for this prompt! 
> 
> Reader, what did you think? I love to hear comments!


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